


Discontent

by lalejandra



Category: lotrips
Genre: Gen, Jealousy, Obsession, Transformative Works Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-31
Updated: 2004-01-31
Packaged: 2019-07-15 07:33:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16058474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalejandra/pseuds/lalejandra
Summary: Viggo could be petty and mean and cruel about small details.





	Discontent

Sometimes Orlando forgets that Viggo isn't always a serious, poetic, introspective kind of guy. It's easy to forget. It's easy to confuse Viggo with Aragorn, because they're so similar in so many ways. They're both the man hopes are hung on, and they both have shoulders broad enough to handle it. They're both the man with deep feelings (and Orlando stops himself from adding, "who feels things deeply" and reminds himself that the next time Elijah has him over for movies and the smoking of various herbs, he's picking the movie, and it won't star Ethan Hawke)—and when Orlando gets his thoughts back on track, he can't remember where he was. He was thinking about Viggo, but that is no help, because he is always, somehow, thinking about Viggo, even if he is thinking about Legolas thinking about Aragorn.

Viggo is always the kind of guy who is up for a pint—if he isn't on the phone with his son or in the middle of a painting or planning to spend the night in the woods somewhere. Orlando's done that with him a few times. They tromped around, carrying blankets in rolls, with bits of food tucked into them, and Viggo put his ear against many a tree, and twirled fallen leaves between his fingers. When Orlando's brain took to making every bit of the experience the beginning of a porn, he had to stop going along. It wouldn't do at all for him to press Viggo against a tree so he could bite Viggo's neck or lick that hollow next to Viggo's hip bone. And he was always afraid that during the night he would unconsciously curl up next to Viggo and press his body against Viggo's back.

In his head Viggo wouldn't think anything of it, because Viggo rarely gets drunk to excess since he's concerned about make up and glue and not being a prat, and he never goes home with anyone—and has never been caught jerking off in the cuntebego like Elijah and Dom and Billy.

But Orlando knows that probably Viggo _would_ think of it, because Viggo isn't sexless or remote—he just seems that way. He is neither one thing nor the other, which is normal, Orlando knows, but frustrating. Why can't people be consistent?

Viggo likes to play practical jokes—but smart ones, like the speech he gave in Helm's Deep about the action figures, and everyone was in on it except poor Bern who just stood there, struggling not to break character while Viggo described how the Monopoly pieces could hump each other and ranted about Aragorns not an inch high being lost in carpet. And stupid ones, too, like when they all grabbed Orlando and held him down and Viggo slapped his belly—but that was two days after Viggo finally realized Orlando wasn't going into the woods barefoot with him anymore, and while Orlando thought that not being around Viggo was punishment enough, clearly Viggo didn't share that assessment.

Viggo could be petty and mean and cruel about small details—which was almost the same as petty, but not quite, because Orlando thought of Viggo's pettiness being the way he always ate the last orange even though he knew Orlando liked oranges more, and his cruelty was inviting Elijah to go into the woods with him after Orlando stopped.

On the other hand, maybe Viggo didn't even notice. Maybe Viggo didn't even care. Maybe everything Orlando thought was part of his—his essential _humanness_ —was really just Viggo's complete unconcern with the rest of the world. But he was always concerned with the world, always worried about the things that were happening far away, always seeing metaphor in the scenes they were shooting, listening to the news and contemplating horrors Orlando didn't like to think about.

It was usually at this point in his thoughts, three or four beers in—but always on a night when he knew he wouldn't be shooting the next day, so Fran and Peter wouldn't sigh patiently and reschedule because the wig was sliding off—that Orlando came to the always shocking realization that he thought about Viggo probably more than was healthy.

But he couldn't stop, and he didn't think anyone, especially Viggo himself, would blame him. Except everyone else knew what it meant, but Viggo—with his serious introspection and his poetry and his pettiness—would assume it was Orlando's way of getting into character and becoming someone not himself and then maybe he'd have a glimpse of insight and slap Orlando's belly.

  



End file.
